4 MADINIA
I whirled, grabbing Stillcrest by her arms. “What’s your plan?”
Her skin was so pale, it was as if she was a corpse. Useless. I shook her until her head bobbled loosely on her neck.
“Madinia,” Vicer snapped.
“She has to have an escape plan. How do we protect these people?”
“Bells,” Stillcrest croaked. “When the bells ring, our men surround the village.”
“How many men, Stillcrest?”
“Two hundred.”
Vicer and I stared at her silently. I’d known she was unprepared, but two hundred men?
“And then what?” I asked.
Her mouth trembled. “There’s a pass through the Normathe Mountains. But it’s two days away on foot.”
And none of these people were prepared to cross through a mountain pass with no warning and no supplies.
I thrust her away, disgusted. “You’ve signed our death warrants.”
Vicer stared at me, and I saw the moment he understood just how many lives were going to be lost. His gray eyes turned bleak. “The children,” he said. “You’ve got to get the children out, Madinia.”
“I have an attack power. They need me on the front where I can do the most damage.”
“No, listen to me,” he ground out when I opened my mouth. “You need to round up as many mothers and children as you can. You’re clever and powerful, and you’re their best chance. Any person who can swing a sword will buy them time––Stillcrest, me…anyone. Do you know where the first caches are?”
I nodded. There were several within a roughly equal distance of the camp. It meant if people were fleeing in groups, they could take different routes, and if one group was attacked, there was still a chance some of them would survive. Bile clawed up my throat.
“Regner’s soldiers won’t be content with slaughtering everyone here,” he said. “They’re going to come after anyone who runs.”
“I know.”
Screams sounded. The carefully placed tents became traps of rope and fabric as hybrids rounded up their children, calling to friends. Children cried out for their parents in terrified, high-pitched voices.
The crackling of fire accompanied a series of shouts. This, at least, I could do something about. Narrowing my eyes, I spotted the log, kicked from the fire and setting a series of tents alight. Sucking the flames into me, I smothered the fire with a glance.
Men and women tripped over hastily abandoned belongings. Vicer stood on the table and began directing anyone within yelling distance to bring women and children to us.
Stillcrest stared at the chaos. “This isn’t happening.”
I barely refrained from taking the sword on my hip and burying it in her gut.
“It’s happening. So do something before I kill you myself.”
Her eyes met mine, and she seemed to break out of her lethargic shock. “We have evacuation points in place. But some of them are on the southern and eastern sides of the camp.”
The directions the soldiers were approaching from. Anyone who headed that way would be the first to be cut down.
“We need to create a distraction on the eastern side of the camp to draw their attention while we get everyone away from those meeting points,” Vicer said. “I’ll make that happen. Madinia, you gather as many people as you can and get them out.”
“I’ll spread the word and tell everyone to head west,” Stillcrest said.
Without another word, we sprinted in opposite directions. The orderly lines of tents were now being trampled as the realization sank into those who had assumed they were safe.
Shouts and screams cut through the air, the terror rising above the clatter of hastily gathered belongings. “Leave them,” I snapped at a woman attempting to pack cooking supplies. I recognized her child from yesterday and thrust the wailing girl into her arms. “Run for your life. Now.”
The blood drained from her face, and she swayed. “You were right.”
Fury and grief battled for supremacy. “Go.”
She nodded, clutching her little girl to her chest, her hand buried in dark curls.
More children clung to the skirts of their mothers, their wide eyes dazed as their fathers kissed them one final time. A woman I’d trained with gave her baby to his father, kissed a child who couldn’t have seen six winters, and pointed for them to go west, her sword already clutched in her hand, eyes dark with horror and grief.
Horses were panicking as people attempted to load them with supplies. One bolted, reins dangling as it galloped toward safety.
Panic clutched at my throat, until I could barely breathe. Darting toward a group of hybrids heading east, I grabbed one man’s shirt, ducking as he swung at me, eyes wild. “To the west!” I roared, and people began to turn.
“To the northwest clearing!” I screamed again and again, until those around me took up the chant. Several elderly women stopped, only for the same man to grab each of their elbows and haul them with him as he turned and ran.
“You.” I pointed at Tralia. “Get to the clearing behind camp and take as many people south as possible.” I closed my eyes briefly, attempting to visualize Vicer’s various routes. “When you get to the lake, head west along the trail until you reach a tree with a blue shirt wrapped around it.” I opened my eyes to find her watching me, clearly memorizing what I was saying. “Listen to me. Take the shirt off the tree so there are no markings for those following you. That’s where you’ll leave the trail. Turn left and keep moving for at least six hours until you find a small clearing with seven rocks in a line. Buried beneath the rocks, you’ll find a warded chest with food, medical supplies, weapons, and blankets. You’ll also find more instructions for the next stop. Repeat that back to me.”
She repeated it, the woman next to her listening and nodding along.
“Take as many as you can. Go.”
She was gone a moment later.
I had enough time to find two other people who would serve as leaders. They began calling names, directing hybrids toward them. And I gave them their own instructions. To our east, more screams began to sound, followed by the clash of swords. My limbs went numb.
Regner’s guards were here.
I scanned the camp. People were moving too slowly. It wasn’t their fault. Their instinct was to take whatever they could with them to make the journey easier. A man and woman were crouched, attempting to haul several dresses with them.
I set the dresses on fire.
“Run,” I hissed as they dropped the dresses with a shriek.
Blank eyes met mine, right as the screams became louder.
They turned and ran.
Near the edge of camp, three children clutched at one another, trembling with fear. Sprinting toward them, I grabbed the hand of the eldest. She immediately latched on to me.
“Parents?”
“Father went to fight.” Her lower lip trembled, and she shuddered, pale with shock. “I don’t know where Mother is.”
Already, several people had been crushed, unconscious and bleeding from the chaos. There was a chance her mother was one of them. “Take your sisters and follow that woman.” I pointed. “Go.”
The children were moving too slowly. “Faster,” I hissed. “Sprint!” I felt like a monster as they glanced back at me, wide-eyed, but they picked up the pace.
There were still too many people here.
An old woman stood in the middle of the camp, her hand raised.
“What are you doing?” I called, grabbing several people and directing them west. They sprinted, lifting whoever they could carry.
“I have an attack power, child.”
“You need to run.”
Her lips trembled, her white hair parting with the wind. “This is the natural order of things. The old die first, protecting the young. Now, go.”
My heart clenched, but I left the main clearing, sprinting into the tree line. The hybrids had been pushed back within a hundred footspans of the enemy. A group of guards were advancing on some of the hybrids who’d gone in the wrong direction, backing them against a thicket of trees. My power thrummed through me, and I snarled, aiming it at the guards close enough for me to reach. Some of them were too well warded for my fire to break through. But several burst into flames, the commotion providing distraction for our people to escape.
The hybrids were still losing. A young hybrid, no older than sixteen winters, lay crumpled against a tree, his hand still gripping his sword. His eyes, wide open, seemed to be seeking help from the gods. Nearby, an older woman screamed for someone over and over, eyes frantic. When she spotted the boy, she dropped to her knees and shook him, wailing.
A lump formed in my throat, but I couldn’t let myself feel it. Forcing myself to go cold, I reached for the woman and hauled her to her feet, ignoring her weak slaps.
“Run,” I hissed. “Or die with him.”
She hiccupped, eyes wild. So I physically turned her with my hands until she was facing west, pushing her back until she stumbled away.
“Help!”
I darted back toward the guards. Hybrids with attack powers were using them, but it wasn’t just Regner’s usual guards here. I spotted several iron guards through the trees, their armor glinting in the dappled light. Gifted with an abundant supply of stolen power, they’d also been trained in death from the time they were old enough to pick up a sword.
I picked off as many as I could while making my way toward the meeting point in the clearing behind camp, in case there was anyone left. Stillcrest met me, her hands trembling, mouth a thin line. “Thank the gods,” she said, clutching at me. “There are a group of hybrids trapped.”
I tripped twice on tree roots and undergrowth, cursing viciously. Smoke curled toward us, thick, choking my lungs. Hybrids were screaming, gathered in groups as they backed away from the approaching iron guards less than a hundred footspans away, while flames roared toward them from the other direction.
Lifting my hands, I sucked the fire into me, starving it of the oxygen it needed. The hybrids didn’t hesitate, sprinting toward the main clearing as soon as the flames were banked. “Kill the corrupt!” someone roared, and three iron guards barreled toward us, their black iron armor making them appear even larger than they were.
That iron was a good protection against my fire. But I aimed sparks at the spaces where their eyes were unprotected. They clawed at their faces, and Stillcrest stepped up next to me. She waved her hand.
Vicer hadn’t told me what her power was, but several tree branches lifted from the ground, sweeping beneath the guards’ feet and sending them crashing to the ground.
“Go,” she said. “Get my people to safety.”
“Where’s Vicer?”
Something that might have been regret flickered across her face. “I don’t know.”
We stared at each other for one moment. If he was dead, it was this woman’s fault. She knew it, I knew it, and there was nothing else to be said.
My gut twisted as I turned, running after the hybrids. A small boy was toddling hand in hand with an older girl, and I lifted him, holding him beneath one arm as I barked at her to run.
The old woman was still in the center of camp as the first iron guards broke through. I could drag her with me, force her to come…
But her expression had turned almost peaceful, the look in her eyes unrelenting.
She looked at me. “Go.”
“May the gods reward your sacrifice.”
She merely nodded, lifting her hand.
I reached the tree line as the screams sounded, and I twisted my head just in time to see several of the iron guards clutching at their chests as the woman smiled. They dropped to their knees, then slumped to the ground.
An attack power indeed.
“Where is my father?” The girl sobbed, falling behind me. I grabbed her hand, hauling her faster.
“I don’t know. Did you see where your mother went?”
“She died already,” she choked out. “Last winter.”
In my arms, the boy was still. I glanced down as we reached the meeting spot. Pupils blown. Shock. My chest ached, and I held him closer, giving what little comfort I could.
More hybrids were piling into the western meeting spot. By now, most of them would have joined other groups and left. But around twenty or so remained within the clearing.
“With me,” I ordered. My breaths came in fast pants, my lungs and throat burning. Nearby, a heavily pregnant woman sobbed, holding a small child to her chest.
Burns covered one side of his body. He shuddered in her arms, eyes blank. Shifting the boy I held to my hip, I held out my other arm.
“What’s your name?”
“Whirna.”
“My name is Madinia. You can’t run with him. Give him to me, and I’ll keep him safe.”
She didn’t argue, but tears streamed down her face as she handed him to me. If I lived through this, I would have to thank Demos for forcing me to carry heavy sandbags constantly while we were training.
By the time we were on the trail I’d scouted—the one Vicer had told me to take if I needed to get out—the sounds of screaming were closer than ever.
Several men stalked out of the forest toward us, weapons in their hands.
Screams ripped through the hybrids around me. My hand lit with fire, until I noticed their ears. Pointed.
“Who sent you?” I asked, just in case.
“Galon,” the closest fae said. He had a strong, narrow face, and his hand gripped a broadsword so large, I doubted I would even be able to lift it. “Your camp leader sent us away. But we heard the screams.”
Thank the gods for fae senses. The fae to the right ran his gaze over us, his eyes lingering on the burned boy in my arms. He’d begun moaning softly, his body trembling.
“Are any of you healers?” I asked hoarsely.
The fae’s expression tightened with pity. “No. But I can send him to sleep to spare him the pain.”
I glanced at the boy’s mother, who nodded, mouth trembling.
“Run,” one of the other fae said when it was done. “We’ll buy you as much time as we can.”
They would die here today. I knew it, and by the grim look in their eyes, they knew it too.
“Thank you.”
The fae with the broadsword smiled at a young girl who was whispering to one of the other children and pointing at his ears. “Get them to safety.”
“I will.”
They prowled toward the screams, and I gestured for my group to follow me.
Hybrids were dying, and I was fleeing. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. But I would keep these people alive. No matter what it took.
When we reached a clearing large enough for us to gather together, I placed both children on the ground and held up one hand to snag everyone’s attention. Already, my arms ached. The pregnant woman leaned down and checked both children. Her son was still fast asleep. The smaller boy cried quietly, and one of the other women lifted him into her arms, giving me a nod.
“From now, I need silence,” I said. “If the iron guards hear us, they’ll kill us. I’ll keep you alive as long as I can, but there’s only one of me. Who else has an attack power?”
Several other women held up their hands, along with a couple of older boys. I’d hoped for more, but I wouldn’t let them catch a single glimpse of my disappointment.
“We’ll do whatever it takes to protect our children,” one of the women snarled, her eyes hard. “Just lead us to safety.”
“Okay. Keep them quiet. You,” I snapped at a boy of around ten summers. “Sheath that knife while you’re running. That goes for all of you. I don’t want any accidents.” Picking up the sleeping boy, I balanced him on my hip. “Let’s go.”
I’d known the moment the barrier went down. Some part of me had been convinced that Regner was dead and the war was over. And then Demos had reminded me of the human king’s wards.
At least a third of the rebels in this camp were humans. When around half of those humans had begun screaming, I’d sprinted toward the main campfire, assuming we were under attack.
But they were happy screams. Those humans could suddenly access more of their power.
Now, days later, Tibris was healing everyone he could. Demos was back on his feet, and we would finally meet with Herne today. His response would determine our next move. In the meantime, Demos had been desperately sending message after message to any of his old contacts, attempting to discover if a man named Torinth was still alive.
Not long before Prisca and the others had left Aranthon, Madinia had sent us a message. Regner’s wards were impenetrable—tied to the mirror gifted to humans by Faric. We needed to find a way to steal and destroy that mirror, but according to Jamic, Regner would keep it with him at every point.
Torinth was the one person who might be able to help us. His power? Diminishing personal wards.
If he wasn’t alive…
I had absolutely no idea how we would kill Regner.
The sun was warm on my skin, a slight breeze playing with my hair as I walked toward the healer’s tent. Tibris glanced up as I approached. He looked calm, relaxed even. But I’d never forget the restrained panic in his eyes when he’d seen the condition Demos was in after the attack.
“How is Demos?” he asked, clearly following my thoughts.
“The usual. He’s training. Pretending he was never injured in the first place.”
Tibris rolled his eyes, returning his attention to the concoction he’d been mixing.
“Will you come with us to talk to Herne?” I asked.
He measured out some kind of fragrant weed, raising one eyebrow. “You’re hoping my presence will help?”
“I know it will.”
“You may be surprised. Believe it or not, but Herne is usually more reasonable than you’ve seen since you arrived. It helps that Prisca and the others managed to bring the barrier down.”
I pondered that. The truth was, we could no longer justify staying here. Now that Demos was able to travel, we had to leave. It was up to Herne to make sure his people were not defenseless.
Because if we left and this camp was wiped out… I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.
“Asinia?”
I glanced up. A shadow had slipped across Tibris’s face. He knew the stakes. He knew we had to leave—no matter how much we had come to care for the rebels.
And so, I changed the subject. “Speaking of power… you used to only be able to heal small wounds. But you managed to save Demos’s life. Before the barrier came down.”
Tibris gave me a faint smile. “It helped that Demos’s power was working to heal him as well. But…some part of me wonders if perhaps I wasn’t using my power to its full potential after my father died.”
I winced at the reminder. Tibris had almost lost his own life while attempting to save his father. “You think you imposed some kind of limit on yourself?”
He shrugged. “Not necessarily a limit. More like a… subconscious protective constraint. But since I left our village, I’ve been forced to push my power as much as I possibly could—again and again. Now that the barrier is down?” His mouth twisted. “What I thought were the depths of my power were only the bare surface. I could have saved my father, Asinia. If Regner hadn’t stolen this magic from me, I could have saved hundreds of lives over the years.” His voice was bitter.
Rage battered my insides. So many lives lost.
I hoped Regner’s most loyal people had enjoyed their horseless carriages.
Stuffing down my bitterness, I locked my shoulder muscles. “We’ll make him pay, Tibris.”
“I know. Some days, I think that thought is the only thing getting all of us through the horrors of this war.” He wiped off his hands. “Well, let’s go see what Herne says.” He winked at me.
Together, we stepped out of the healer’s tent, the light outside momentarily blinding after the restful dimness within.
The camp was a hive of activity, the air thick with the scent of the stew cooking over the fire and the sound of blades clashing in the distance as rebels trained for the looming battle.
A pigeon swooped above our heads, dropping from the sky and landing on Tibris’s shoulder. He gently stroked it with one finger and freed the tiny piece of parchment it carried.
His face paled. “Conreth killed Lorian during the battle,” he said. “Prisca used her power to turn back time and save him,” he said hurriedly, grabbing my arm when I swayed on my feet.
“What—”
“Regner used his mirror to direct Conreth’s power toward their ship. The ship exploded. Prisca almost died, and Telean is only alive because one of Daharak’s pirates managed to save her.” He crumpled the letter in his fist, then smoothed it out. “Eryndan is dead. Now, they need to bargain with Rekja if we are to have any hope of an alliance with the Gromalians.”
Tibris was already turning, pulling me with him toward Herne and Demos. They stood at the edge of the camp, already deep in conversation. Herne’s blond hair fluttered in the wind, the sharp planes of his face catching the light. Demos was a tall, dark shadow beside him, showing no signs he’d been wounded, his eyes scanning the forest as if looking for threats. Herne’s own gaze was on his people. On the children running around the campfire, the mother who lifted one of them into her arms and tickled him, and the sentries who trudged out of the forest, coming off their shifts.
Tibris and I joined them, and Herne acknowledged us with a nod. Demos scanned both of us, his gaze lingering on me. Awareness prickled across my skin, and it felt as if the rest of the world disappeared.
“You’re going to tell me that you need to leave,” Herne said, breaking the spell.
Tibris handed Demos the message.
Demos read it, and his expression turned cold. “I have lingered here as long as I can. But I belong at the front, leading our people.” He glanced at me, and now he was the hybrid general. “Asinia comes with me.” Another glance at Tibris and his expression turned vaguely sympathetic. “You make your own choices.”
I narrowed my eyes at Demos. I wanted to go to the front. Wanted to see Prisca and the others. But if he thought I was another soldier he could command…
I sighed. I longed to be treated like a soldier. Like someone who could contribute. And that meant taking orders. I couldn’t have it both ways.
Herne was studying Tibris. He wasn’t the kind of man who wore his feelings on his face. But his eyes glinted.
“I need to see my sister,” Tibris said. “And…I need to tell her about you. About us.”
Herne’s mouth tightened, but he nodded.
Herne was…allowing it? I clamped down on my lower lip with my teeth, barely preventing my mouth from falling open. Herne’s eyes met mine, and he angled his head.
“I can be reasonable. You are, after all, correct. Those beasts will return to kill all of us if they can.”
“Will you evacuate?” Demos asked.
Herne sighed, and pity stirred in my gut. I knew what it was to cling to something, even if it was no longer truly an option.
“Yes,” he said finally. “If you can guarantee a safe route for those who can’t fight. I doubted you when you said the hybrid heir could bring down the barrier. But you’ve seen many of the people here celebrating that they can access more power.” He gave me a rueful grin. “Not me. Perhaps my power is being stored elsewhere.”
I fought the urge to ask what he could do. Next to Herne, Tibris practically glowed with pride. Something told me he was at least partially responsible for Herne’s new ability to reason. My chest clenched at the thought of them being parted. This war was unrelenting.
“And will you fight by our side?” Demos asked Herne.
“Yes. But we will reinforce our traps first. This place is our home, and many would like to return.”
One of Herne’s most trusted people approached, a man named Frenik. His stern face lightened as he nodded at us, but he immediately held up a piece of parchment for Herne, who sighed. “Excuse me.”
Tibris watched him go, and his hands fisted at his sides.
“You’ll see him soon,” I said softly. We’re going to make sure of it.
“I hope so.”
He said the words as if the likelihood was low. I frowned at him. “Prisca will be able to overlook the fact that you were shot here if you tell her how much you want to be with Herne.”
His expression closed off. “I need to get back to the healer’s tent.”
“What was that about?” I muttered. It wasn’t like Tibris to shut down like that.
Demos made a noncommittal sound. I turned to find him studying my face. Strangely, my cheeks heated under his attention.
“What is it?”
“Would you like to take a walk with me?”
It was already after the midday meal, which meant we’d leave tomorrow morning. We had enough time for this.
“Of course.”
The forest seemed even more alive somehow— from the earthy scent that teased my nostrils to the tiniest insects I spotted crawling through the overgrowth. I caught a single glimpse of Vynthar as he wound between two trees, and then he was gone.
The Drakoryx came and went as he pleased. His favorite game was to frighten any sentries who seemed close to falling asleep on their shift. But I’d seen the fond looks most of the rebels gave him when he did deign to appear, more than willing to be fed and stroked. It made all of us feel safer knowing he was stalking through these woods, searching for any scents that might not fit.
This wasn’t my first walk alone with Demos. In fact, we had a route we usually took. A route that allowed him to keep an eye on the sentries and make sure everyone was alert and in the correct place. After the way we’d managed to sneak up on this camp, he’d practically taken over security matters—something even Herne hadn’t been stubborn enough to refuse.
“Have you heard anything about Torinth?” I asked.
Pure devastation flickered across Demos’s face, almost too quickly for me to see it. I was so busy looking at him, my heel wobbled as I stepped onto a broken branch, and he caught my arm, instantly steadying me.
He stroked his thumb over the back of my wrist before letting his hand drift away. “I’m attempting to contact anyone who might know where he is. But… there’s a chance he won’t come, Asinia.”
“Even knowing his power might be the only chance we have to take down Regner?”
Demos studied a group of yellow wild flowers growing near the base of a huge oak. “I would like to believe he is the man I remember. But I’m not the man I remember.” Demos let out a bitter laugh.
It was difficult to imagine, given what I’d seen from everyone I loved so deeply. All of them had put aside their own dreams and goals, their own wants and needs. All of them had sacrificed everything they could. And would sacrifice more.
“We’ll tell him everything,” I said. “We’ll let him know he is our only chance.”
“Even knowing I’ll do whatever it takes to make him work with us, I don’t want him to join us out of guilt. I want him to join us because he has hope.”
It was intimate, seeing this side of Demos. He would indeed do whatever it took to get what we needed. He could be logical to the point of ruthlessness. But this side of him… I imagined it was the person he used to be, before he was arrested. Before everyone he loved was put to death.
I reached for his hand. Demos tensed but linked his fingers with mine. His hand was so large and warm, it was likely a mistake allowing myself to feel it clasping my own.
“Tell me about Torinth,” I said, pushing the thought away.
“We called him Tor,” he said, his voice rough. “Back then, he was almost like a brother to me. He lived close to us in Crawyth. The night it was destroyed, the night Prisca was taken and my parents died, his sister was also killed. She was all he’d had. His parents perished during the invasion. Tor was never bitter, though. He was the kind of boy who would laugh at your worst jokes and then give you his last bite of food. He drew people to him.”
My eyes stung. I could almost see the two boys running wild as children.
“We grew up together as neighbors. And after Crawyth, we were raised together in the same house with other hybrid orphans. When…when I told him who I really was, he shrugged.” Demos laughed. “He said my name would be good for only one thing in those days— convincing hybrids to trust me long enough to get them out of Eprotha. And so, we did. Until that night, when we were betrayed. Torinth was always late. That night was no different, and it saved his life. I saw him as I was being dragged out. He was running toward us—I don’t know what he thought he was going to do, but he would’ve died. Our friend Greon roared at him to run. And he did. To this day, I don’t know if Tor was caught and killed—or if he managed to stay free. All I know is I didn’t hear of him in Regner’s dungeon.”
“What makes you think he won’t come?”
“I got everyone we loved killed, Sin. I was the one who’d chosen that meeting place. And they were there because they believed in me.”
It was no use attempting to argue with him now. He had that stubborn look in his eyes.
“I…I can’t understand how you lasted so long in that place,” I said. “I think I would have curled up and given in to death. Welcomed it, even.”
He slowly shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t have. Even when you were hours from death, your body was fighting it. But me? I begged for death to claim me every day. And always, the dark gods ignored my pleas.”
My heart galloped in my chest. The thought of Demos dying alone in that place, the thought that he wouldn’t have been there when I arrived…
“I’m glad the gods ignored you.”
He let out a humorless laugh. “At first, I prayed for death because I thought I might see the others again. And then I realized they were unlikely to want to see me, even in the afterlife. So, I prayed to be taken to Hubur, where at least I might forget.”
It hurt, knowing how broken he had been. Knowing that some part of him was still broken. “Of course they would want to see you, Demos.”
His hand released mine, and he shoved it through his hair. “They…screamed for me,” he said hoarsely. “As they were dragged past my cell. They trusted me to keep them alive. Many of them believed—up until their final moments—that I had some kind of plan in place. That I was going to get them out. And all I could do was sit in that cell and watch as they were led to their deaths. They were my friends. My family.”
My breath hitched. Demos had lost them all. And then he’d remained in that cell for almost an entire year after they’d died. He’d said little to me when I’d first arrived. A few growled instructions to eat, but mostly, he’d ignored me.
Because why would he want to get to know another person who would die?
But then he’d met Prisca. And he’d learned who she was. I’d watched, day by day, as the rage in him had burned so deep, I’d wondered how it hadn’t melted through the fae iron surrounding us.
He’d made me talk, even when I’d wanted nothing more than to give in to grief and depression. He’d encouraged me to tell him about my mother, about our village. I’d told him about Prisca…
“You saved my life,” I said.
He shook his head.
“You did. You want to know why the gods ignored you when you begged them for death? Because you had more work to do. You’ve already saved so many lives, and you’re going to save more. You’re going to help Prisca take our people home.”
He gave me a faint smile, taking my hand once more. We walked in silence for a while, until we’d looped back around toward the camp.
“I know you think I’m overprotective and domineering,” he said, making it clear he’d noticed my reaction to his declaration I would be leaving with him. “I’m…I’m going to do better, Sin. I promise.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I lifted his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. His eyes darkened.
I understood Demos more than I ever had before. He had been forced to watch the people he was supposed to protect die. They’d offered him their trust, their allegiance, their friendship. And he blamed himself every day for their deaths.
Now, if we were lucky and Tor was still alive—and willing to help us—Demos would be forced to face that past once more.
I just hoped it wouldn’t tear him apart.